Rameesha Aman reviews David Szalay’s Booker Prize-winning novel, which traces one man’s journey from an ordinary life in Hungary to the unsettling world of extreme wealth, offering a profound reflection on identity, detachment, and modern existence.
The winner of last year’s Booker Prize, Flesh is the sixth novel by Canadian-Hungarian writer David Szalay. The premise of the novel is relatively simple: a man becomes entangled in a world of extreme wealth. Yet, through superbly controlled writing, Szalay transforms this straightforward premise into a compelling and deeply engaging read.
The story follows István, who begins the novel at fifteen years old, living with his mother in Hungary. An aloof and dispassionate young man, he soon becomes involved in an affair with an older woman in his apartment building, only for the relationship to end in tragedy and crime. A few years later, István finds himself involved in minor criminal acts and enlists in the army, which eventually takes him to the Middle East.
Upon returning from duty, he becomes a bodyguard and later a personal security guard for an affluent family. Here, he becomes increasingly involved in the lives of his wealthy clients and begins an affair with a married female client. A series of events draws him further into the world of the ultra-rich, while his memories of Hungary become increasingly distant and almost unreal. This trajectory continues until tragedy and personal failures once again bring István back to Hungary, where he returns to a life of solitude.
The many moving parts of the story are what make this novel such a compelling and page-turning read. The juxtaposition of ordinary and extraordinary events is one of the book’s greatest strengths. Much of the praise must also be attributed to Szalay’s writing, as it takes rare skill to transform a series of unexpected turns into a story that feels both believable and relatable.
The themes of nihilism and existentialism are particularly strong throughout the novel. Szalay rarely pauses to reflect on István’s emotional state after each tragedy, instead presenting a life that continues regardless of loss or failure. In doing so, the novel seems to suggest that if life moves forward despite everything, perhaps there is little purpose in agonising over small decisions and the minutiae of everyday existence. Women also occupy a limited role in István’s life, as he often finds himself drawn into relationships rather than actively pursuing them.
The writing style of Flesh is sparse, with very few words wasted on unnecessary descriptions or reflections. The events unfold at a brisk pace, a quality that is often rare in literary fiction. After finishing the novel, readers may find themselves questioning whether this is truly how modern men perceive the world and whether they are as detached from their surroundings as István appears to be.
Perhaps some responsibility can be attributed to the digital age, which has made reality feel increasingly distant as people become more immersed in their online identities. In this context, Flesh leaves readers with much to consider about contemporary living, emotional detachment, and the apathy that can exist within circles of extreme wealth. It can also be argued that István does not represent all men, or even the majority of them, but the narrative remains compelling and thought-provoking enough to demand attention.
